The Truth about Destiny
by Elizabeth Firebreath
Summary: The apocalypse has come and gone. Castiel bet on free will, and he lost everything. Alternate Ending to Season 5 Episode 18


The man sitting alone in the nondescript bar threw back a shot, swallowing it in one gulp. The whiskey was dry, leaving little moisture in his mouth, and it wasn't exactly subtle either. He had to pause for a moment, letting the alcohol burn down his throat before setting the glass down to refill it. Pushing the bottle to the side, he threw down another.

And another.

And another.

It helped him forget.

Castiel, angel of the lord, gulped back another shot of whiskey. He closed his eyes, wondering if the other man wasn't going to show after all. He couldn't blame him. Considering the way he'd reacted to the last person who brought ill news, it would have been wise to stay away.

Castiel stiffened, sensing someone. Not the person he had been waiting for, but someone he had never wished to see again.

"Castiel." Came the familiar voice. "Brother."

Castiel didn't answer, couldn't have answered even if he'd wanted to. So he instead threw back another shot.

There was a long silence, Castiel could feel the eyes boring into his back but he refused to turn around. He didn't know what he'd do if he saw the thing behind him.

Old memories that Castiel spent countless months trying to suppress resurfaced. Betrayal and anger was first, which only yielded to horror and outright revulsion, fading into hopelessness. The broad spectrums of negative human emotions were something Castiel had become very accustomed to.

"Castiel." The voice said again, he flinched. "Turn around." It was an order, not a request. "I have come to speak with you and you will cooperate."

When had Castiel ever been cooperative in these situations? First he awkwardly let his attachment to a couple humans get in the way of his judgment. Then he betrayed heaven for them. And most spectacularly, when it was all over and destiny's parts had played out, Castiel still couldn't let go of the two damned souls enough to allow his return to heaven.

Castiel eventually did turn away from the whiskey and forgetting. But he would not look at the thing.

"Despite your best efforts to close yourself off from us, I can hear you.' The thing said. "Your disrespect rivals even that of my vessel's."

Castiel's head snapped up, meeting familiar green eyes.

No, not Dean anymore.

"That got your attention."

"You have no right to speak of him." Castiel spat.

"I have every right." Michael corrected. "He is the noble hero who gave up his life and will to do what was right."

"Stop." Castiel whispered hoarsely.

"Show some respect." Dean's voice twisted with Michael's words. "You're lucky I didn't smite you as soon as I gained control of this vessel, considering the crimes you have committed against our kind."

Castiel turned away from Michael, motioning at the bartender for another drink.

"I am here to give you one last chance." Dean's voice echoed. "One chance to rethink your brash actions. See reason, and I will return your grace and you may join our ranks as a servant of God. Refuse and you will be cut off from heaven for eternity."

Gaining back his grace. It was almost tempting. His grace would erase the human soul that had developed in its place over the last years. His pain would melt into a dim memory. Maybe he could begin to forget the Winchester brothers. Maybe he could find his purpose again, become a servant of God, angel of the Lord. Once that was all Castiel had wanted, to be a good son, following his father's orders.

But where was God when Castiel ripped apart the world to find him? Where was God when Dean decided the only way to save the world, and more importantly his brother, was to give himself up to an arch angel that cared nothing for his fate? Where was God when Sam, driven mad by grief and betrayal, answered yes to the devil? Where was God when brothers met to do battle, with the intent on erasing each other from creation? Where was God when Lucifer let Sam rise to the surface just in time to see the thing that used to be his brother stab him viscously in his gut? Castiel would never forget the look on Sam's face when Michael drove the angle blade into his navel.

No, the God that let that happen wasn't a God he wanted to serve.

"Bite me." Castiel quoted.

"Excuse me?" asked the voice.

"You heard me Michael." Castiel suddenly felt exhausted.

"Castiel, I urge you to-"

"Leave me." Castiel cut in.

There was a long pause. He was still the same. No angelic powers rushed through him. The pain remained, throbbing dully, mulled by the copious amounts of alcohol in his system.

"Goodbye Castiel." Michael said.

Castiel felt him go. He wasn't an angel any longer but he could still feel the presences of others. Suddenly there was nothing, and Castiel was alone.

He knew that would be the last time he ever saw Dean.

Castiel turned back around and motioned for the bartender to pour him another drink.

Then he realized the last time he had seen Dean was years ago.

He eyed the amber liquid in the glass, swirling it around. Then he tipped his head back and let the alcohol burn down his mouth and throat.

But there was not enough liquor in the world to erase that thought.


End file.
